In My Life
by passionately-curious
Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark have been best friends forever, even promising to marry each other if both are single at 30. When Katniss' 30th birthday arrives, Peeta has something to ask her that will turn their lives upside down.
1. Chapter 1

My daddy walks me to school on my first day. All the other kids' mommies and daddies are there too, so I don't feel so silly for being scared. And I'm not scared, not really, I just don't want to go. I want to stay home and sing songs and play with my baby sister. But my daddy says that I'm a big girl now and big girls go to school. So I let my mommy force me into a red plaid dress and do my hair in two braids.

"Now, Katniss," my daddy says, kneeling down in front of me. "Be brave, my little huntress. Be nice to the other kids, no matter what anyone says, okay?" And even though I don't understand what he means, I nod. "Good girl. And remember what we've been practicing." He taps my nose and kisses my cheek and sends me on my own into the school yard.

The first day is a blur. We get a tour of the school, meet all our new classmates, and get to pick our cubbies for the rest of the year. Mine is next to a blond boy with blue eyes and a constant smile. He waves his chubby hand at me when I put my tennis shoes away and I smile back. "I'm Peeta."

"Katniss," I answer quietly.

"Hi, Katniss." Then he flushes and turns away back to his desk. We don't talk anymore that day, but anytime I look over at him, he's looking at me with that same smile and red cheeks.

Before we go home, our teacher asks if anyone knows the Valley Song and my arm shoots up without thought. I make my way up to the front of the room and sing just like my daddy and I practiced all summer. As I finish, I see Peeta staring at me with an open mouth. Now it's my turn to blush.

After school, I wait for my mommy and sister to come pick me up so I sit under a tree picking dandelions and popping the heads off. I save the stems so Prim and I can make necklaces from them. I sense a shadow and look over to see Peeta standing over me. "Hi," he says.

"Hi."

"Can I sit with you until my papa gets here?"

I nod and scoot over so he can lean against the trunk of the tree with me. I quietly pop the heads off the dandelions with him while he whistles a little tune I don't recognize. He pauses and looks over at me. "You sing good."

"Thank you. I liked your drawing," I answer quietly, referring to our first art project. We were supposed to draw something that makes us happy and Peeta was the only one who's picture we could identify. Our teacher even pinned it up on the wall because it was so good.

"Thank you."

It's our first conversation that year. The next day, he shares his sugar cookie with me at lunch and I give him half of my cheese and apples. And everyday we wait for our parents under the tree. My mommy always smiles when she walks up to get me and finds me sitting with him. And his daddy always makes sure to ruffle my hair like he does Peeta's. Peeta tells me I'm his best friend and someday he's gonna marry me because you're suppose to marry his best friend.

* * *

We're sitting under our tree in our graduation robes, ropes and caps slung off the side. My head is on his leg and he's popping off the heads of dandelions so they land on my face. I giggle softly when one tickles my nose. He's the only person I laugh around anymore other than Prim. While all my other friendships dissolved after my father died, Peeta somehow forced his way further into my life and refused to let go. We grew closer during those teenage years, helping each other with crushes and puberty. He stayed by my side, talked when I couldn't, listened when I needed it. I snuck him into my house when he couldn't be around his mother any longer. We never pushed but we were always there for for each other.

He even turned down a prestigious college experience to go to State with me which no one in his family took too well. Even his dad, who I thought liked me, told him he was making a mistake.

"Peet? Will we still be friends when we go off to school?" It was easy in high school, since we planned our class schedules together. But college was going to be different, we had different majors and career plans and part of Peeta's scholarship required him to live on a different side of campus than where I got placed. I worried that we would get too busy for each other. Too different.

"Don't be silly, Katniss," he answers with a smile. "You're my best friend. And after the first year, I can switch dorms so we can live closer."

"You promise?"

He kicks his leg so I'm forced to sit up. He reaches into his bag and pulls out his exacto knife from his art class – the only difference in our schedules. He slices the pad of his pointer finger until it bleeds. Before I can stop him, he grabs my hand and slices my finger. "I promise," he says, pressing our fingers together. "You're kind of stuck with me, Everdeen."

"You don't know that," I protest. "You'll meet new people and want to spend more time with them. You'll start dating and get married and all that stupid shit."

He shakes his head. "How about this, then? Let's say, if we're both single at 30, I'll marry you. That's how positive I am that you will always be my best friend."

I laugh and pull my finger away from his, holding it in my mouth until it clots. "How does that prove we'll still be best friends?"

"Remember when we were younger and I told you that you're supposed to marry your best friend? Well – if we're both single at 30 and I marry you then that proves you're my best friend because that's who I'll marry." He laughs. "That made more sense in my head."

"You're ridiculous," I say. I see him watching me expectantly, waiting for some kind of response. "Well, I doubt you'll be the one who's not married at 30 since I don't ever really plan on doing it myself. But...sure. If we're both single by that point, I'll marry you, Peeta Mellark."

He grins and pops a dandelion head right in my face again.

* * *

**~12 Years Later**

* * *

_The room is too big for my liking. It's too big and floral and there are __far_ _too many people here. People I don't even recognize – but over half of them are blond haired, blue eyed, and fair skinned so I know they belong. I'm the one who doesn't feel like she belongs. I can count on one hand how many times I've worn a dress out in public. But never one this formal or expensive. I've been overly cautious about not tripping or slipping or sitting in something and ruining the evening. I didn't want to wear the dress but I knew it made everyone else happy, so I sucked it up and put it on. The only saving grace is that in a few hours I can take it off and never have to wear anything like it again._

_Before that, I have to survive the night. And more specifically, I have to survive my toast. I've been dreading this since Peeta asked me if I'd mind doing it. It's ridiculous though because he, of all people, knows I hate public speaking. But, like the dress, it's important to him so I do. Because I'll do anything for him. Including speaking at his wedding. He must know how I'm feeling because he reaches over and squeezes my hand before I accept the microphone from his brother._

_I take a deep breath, my hands shaking so badly I'm sure I'll drop the cards I wrote my notes on. "Peeta and I have known each other since kindergarten. Though, if you were to ask him, he'd tell you that we've been best friends since kindergarten. At first, and he can attest to this, I thought he was just being nice. Because it was Peeta and Peeta Mellark was, and still is, the nicest, kindest person in the entire world. But it turns out, Peeta knew what he was talking about. He's someone who, when he sees what he wants, he goes after it and, more often than not, gets it." I turn and smile at the handsome groom, my eyes welling up._

* * *

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and I smile when I see that Peeta has sent me a new photo message. It's kind of silly but I love our tradition. Right after graduation, Peeta had his first published work in a tiny magazine and exploded from there. He was still free-lance but his networking ability and sheer talent behind a camera turned him into a bit of a wunderkin. It was great for his career and he was doing what he loved every day of the week. He's been on nonstop assignments for the last three years, covering news stories all over the country – and even on other continents when needed. The hardest part, according to him, was being away from his friends and missing birthdays and Christmases and every other special day. We kept in contact whenever he had time, a text here or there, a postcard with one of his latest pictures, little trinkets from his travels that he thought I'd enjoy. On my end, I made sure to purchase and keep every single picture of his that was published so I could follow his career as much as possible from here.

His selfies always make me smile, so I slide my phone out of my pocket to check it. If my boss, Effie, was here, she'd be snapping at me about how rude it is to be on my phone during a work-related lecture, but she can bite me. It's my birthday and I'm struggling to stay awake at the moment. I'm expecting to see Peeta's goofy face in front of some strange animal or a beautiful building complete with gargoyles on the ledges or even a group of kids who flock to his easy-going charm, anything to show where he's at and what he's up to. I'm confused when, instead, I get a picture of a lecture hall. In the middle of a lecture. On the use of organic pesticides to improve crop yield. Wait...

I snap my neck up to the presentation in front of me. Then back at my phone. Up. Back. Up. Back.

Don't hurt yourself, Birthday Girl.

I turn in my seat, eyes scanning the audience and I smile when I spot him. He motions with his head to leave and, without a second thought, follow behind him. I'm on him as as soon as we're out the door. I wrap my arms around his neck and laugh when he holds me tight and picks me up off the floor. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "Shouldn't you be off taking pictures for _Time_ or _Newsweek_ or something else like that, Hotshot?"

He laughs and I realize in that moment how much I miss his laugh. I still have a message from him on my phone that I listen to when I get lonely but it's not the same as hearing him in real life. "I figured the flooding in the Midwest could wait while I come see my favorite girl on her big birthday. Happy birthday, Katniss." He pulls a small item from his pocket and hands it to me.

I rip apart the tissue paper wrapping and run my fingers over the gold pin. "It's beautiful. Where did you get this?"

"That is from when I was over in the Galapagos. The bird songs there are out of this world." He takes it from me and pins it onto my shirt. He smiles. "It suits you."

I smile take in his form. "I've missed you."

"Me, too. I've been thinking about you. Can I take you out for dinner tonight for your birthday or do you have some big plans?"

I think it over, knowing a few of my coworkers had been talking about taking me out for my 30th. But Peeta is my best friend so they'll have to get over it. "I'm all yours."

His smile lights up his face. "Good. I've got some big news. Pick you up around seven?" He leans in and gives me a hug, holding me just a little longer than usual and I breathe him in. Having him so close again makes me realize just how long it's been and how big the hole in my life has been since he's been gone. I sneak back into the lecture, no longer able to pay attention to pesticides or crop output because all I can think about is Peeta and what his big news could be.

* * *

I'm still in my towel when I fling my front door open and pull Madge into my apartment. We work in different departments but always end up having lunch together so we've gotten to know each other over the years. She's reserved, which I appreciate, and although we've never seen one another outside of work, I knew I could count on her for an emergency. Like what I'm supposed to wear for a birthday dinner with Peeta Mellark.

"Holy cow," she whistles when she steps into my room. Every piece of clothing I own is strewn about my room. "Okay. Let's...let's see what we can work with." She smiles at me and goes to work picking through my modest collection of outfits. I can't remember the last time I've been on a date and it's not my style to have flowery dresses or flowing skirts. And I'm pretty sure the only pair of heels I own are from high school and pinch my toes. But it doesn't stop Madge from trying. "So...who are you having dinner with that's causing you such a fuss?"

"I'm not in a fuss!" I call from the bathroom, where I'm braiding my wet hair. I hear her snort and I pop my head out to see her shaking her head with a smile. "I'm not. It's just…" I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed. "So I had this friend when we were kids. Well...more than kids, we basically grew up together. But after college he got a great photojournalism job and has been moving all over the place ever since."

"Oh, the _National Geographic_ guy?" Madge asks.

I nod. "He's freelance, technically, but yeah, that one. Peeta Mellark. What?"

She's smiling again and quickly looks back down at the clothes in her hand. "So that's why you've turned down Gale so many times."

I feel my jaw drop. "That's...what?" How did she manage to bring Gale, one of the research developers in our building, into this?

Madge shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm just saying, I understand now why you haven't taken him up on his offer. I'd turn a guy like him down if I was in love with someone else, too."

What is she talking about, I wonder. Gale and I are too similar, he's too hardheaded and temperamental and neither of us would ever budge if we ever were to fight on things. We're good friends, we have some hobbies in common, but he's too much like a brother to ever be anything more. I've told her that. It has nothing to do with being in love with anyone else. Who would I even be in love with?

"Peeta," she answers when I ask her. "Aren't you? I mean...it's just...the way you smile when you say his name and you collect all his photos and…" she gestures around her. "You've torn your apartment apart to figure out what to wear. I've never seen girls do that for boys they're not in love with."

"Of course I love Peeta," I answer quietly. "He's my best friend. But I'm not in love with him. That's just...that's silly…" But even as I say them, the words feel wrong. It's not silly to be in love with Peeta - everyone who met him fell in love with him. It was part of his charm and personality and, objectively, his ridiculous good looks. Whoever he ended up with wouldn't really deserve him because no one deserved someone like him. He was selfless, passionate, patient, and...perfect as far as I was concerned. "Did I ever tell you about our high school graduation?" I ask with a smile. She sits back and listens to me talk about our promise to marry each other if we're both single at thirty, laughing when I show her the scar on my finger from where he cut me with an exacto knife.

"I think that's sweet," she says.

"It was," I agree with a sigh. "So, any ideas about what to wear?"

She purses her lips. "I think I can make something work. You have a little black dress, right?"

I roll my eyes. Because of course I have a little black dress. Even if it is only because Prim insisted I get one as soon as I moved out here. I don't think I've ever actually worn it, I've never had a reason to wear it, but I'm sure I have one. "In the back of the closet." It's the one thing I didn't consider so it's still hanging where it's been since I moved in.

Madge pulls it out and her smile threatens to break her face. "Katniss, you are going to knock him dead!"

It takes her a little over an hour to work her magic and I have to admit that when I look at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. In a good way. She's convinced me to let my hair down and nearly squealed when she saw the soft waves in it from drying in my braid. She applied a very light layer of makeup, "just to accentuate your features," she told me, and let me borrow a pair of kitten heels since she knew I wouldn't be comfortable in full heels.

"He said he had something important to tell me," I say, playing with the hem of the dress. "I wonder what he wants."

"Well," she says, thoughtfully. "It is your 30th birthday, right? So maybe he's been thinking about that promise you guys made. When is his birthday?" She kisses my cheek and leaves me alone in my apartment thinking about what she just said. Peeta made such a big deal about being home for my birthday, this specific birthday as opposed to any other. Could he be thinking about that promise we made? I rubbed the pad of my finger, feeling the small scar and couldn't tell if my racing heart and fluttering stomach was from excitement over our promise or pure fear.

* * *

Peeta picks me up promptly at seven - because Peeta Mellark is never late for things - and my breath catches in my chest. He's always looked good but he must have been doing something different during his assignments because the grey dress pants and light blue button-up look better on him than anything I've ever seen him in. "When did you get so svelte?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level and not stare at where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows.

He laughs. "You're one to talk. I almost forgot how well you clean up, Everdeen." He holds his hand out for me and we walk together down to his rental car. It feels intimate, the way he opens the passenger side door for me and makes sure the radio is already pre-set to a station I like. When we reach the restaurant - a little bistro he's heard so much about - his hand is on the small of my back and he effortlessly leads me to our table. I search my brain trying to remember if this is how we've always been or if the occasion has called for a difference.

We easily talk about our lives since we last saw each other. At least, Peeta talks and I listen, trying to keep my wandering brain on a leash. I can't help but to stare at him, the way his eyes light up when he's talking about all the experiences he's gotten and all the things he's seen. Or the way his nose wrinkles slightly when he laughs. Or how his tongue sits between his teeth when he's listening to my boring work stories about crop rotations and our fight against GMO's. All the little things about him that I forgot when he was away are intensified now that he's sitting in front of me.

"I still don't understand how you can spend so much time outside and still be as pale as the moon," I say as we finish our dinner.

"Sunscreen is a powerful thing for us fair-skinned peasants," he jokes back. He takes a sip of his wine and sets the glass down. "So, big 3-0, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "Big 3-0. But don't be too high and mighty, yours is coming up soon." We both smile softly and I couldn't stop myself from saying what was on my mind. "Do you remember that promise we made in high school?"

"About staying best friends forever?" He reaches across the table and takes my hands in his. "Of course I remember that promise, Katniss. I think about it all the time. I think about you all the time."

I'm sure my hands are sweaty but I refuse to pull them away when they feel so right in his. "I think about you, too."

"Actually," he pauses, "that's kind of why I wanted to talk to you tonight. I, um, man I don't even know how to start asking you this. I know it's been forever and a half since we've seen each other and so much has changed since we were kids. But this is huge. And it's not really fair since I basically won't take no for an answer."

"Okay," I say in a breathy voice.

"I...um...well I need you to...or I was wondering if you...as my best friend forever...would agree to be a part of my upcoming wedding."

My stomach drops. I feel like I'm going to throw up. I pull my hands out of his and quickly down the rest of my wine, avoiding the look in his eyes because I can't bare to know what he's thinking. That maybe he thought I was expecting some different sort of question because that would be ridiculous to think. "You're...you're getting married?" I finally choke out.

I wish I hadn't looked up. Because there's that light in his eyes again. "Yeah. I, uh, well I met someone on one of my assignments. She's a reporter for the local news back home."

"You met her in Twelve?" I ask, sure the hurt I'm feeling is evident in my voice. Twelve is our home. It's where we met. "Do I...do I know her?"

"No, she's not from there originally, she just got transferred a while ago and I was passing through and I ran into her and we just started talking and it was...like we had known each other forever." He reaches out for my hand again and I reluctantly let him take it. "She's different. I can't explain it but she just is. But I need you there with me, Katniss. You're my best friend and I can't do this without you."

"When...when is the wedding?"

He chuckles. "Funny story."

"I doubt it," I mumble under my breath. None of this has been funny..

"I leave for Trinidad in a few weeks and we talked about maybe going there for an extended honeymoon so...um...in two weeks."

"That's so soon," I whisper. How can he be getting married in two weeks? Wasn't this what I was always worried about? About Peeta going off and getting his own life and leaving me behind? Being off working was one thing because I knew he'd come home to me. He'd send updates to me. We were each other's. Now the idea of sharing him with some other woman, someone who deserved more of his time than me. A wife was more important than a best friend.

I don't know what he thinks of the tears that start forming in my eyes but he's instantly at my side, kneeling beside me. This image, of him down on one knee next to me only intensifies this feeling of loss and betrayal inside me. "I'm so scared, Katniss. I need you next to me. I can't do this without you."

_Then don't do it!_ I scream in my head. _Don't marry her if you're so scared_. But I see it on his face. I hear it in his voice. Scary isn't bad for Peeta Mellark, he's always taken risks when it comes to his heart. It's burned him so horribly in the past but I've been there for him through it all. I have to be there for him now. "Yeah," I say, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Of course. Whatever you need."

And when he hugs me, fully embracing me in his arms, I rest my head on his shoulder and cry for the third time in my life.

* * *

**AN: **This story is dedicated to the wonderful dracoisalooker76. Thanks goes to SwishyWillow for prereading and making me feel guilty for her feels ;)

LOOSELY based on My Best Friend's Wedding but with my own Everlark (YES, EVERLARK) twist. I'm a 100% proponent of an Everlark HEA so please trust me. :) I don't own THG characters, I just play with them a little.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite all the friend's he's made, Peeta stays true to his word and somehow we grow even closer to each other. We live in neighboring apartments because I know his feelings about living with a girl before he gets married - even when that girl is his friend. "Of all the things you decided to be traditional about that's the one you went with?" I joke.

He gives me a look of shock that is so exaggerated I know he's not really upset. "Katniss Everdeen. What could you possibly be implying?"

All I have to do is raise an eyebrow at him to get him to blush and drop the conversation. "So, Mr. Mellark. What do you think about that one?" I ask, nodding my head toward a girl at the bar who just recently broke away from her pack of friends. "Hair. Real or not real?"

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, pretending to do a hardcore inspection of the girl. "Real. Definitely a natural blonde. That body was made for a blonde."

I snort. "You are such a boy."

"I'm more girl than you are, Everdeen," he laughs. "Why? You think it's fake?"

"Her roots are darker than mine!" I practically shout, pointing to where her clearly visible dark hair is peeking through at her scalp. "You're terrible at this. And that's saying a lot, coming from me."

"I hate the hair game, for the record." He pulls the last bottle out of the bucket we ordered and sets it in front of me. "I've got the next one as long as we agree to go with a different game when I get back. Can you handle another bucket?"

"Yes. I'd very much like to forget my idiot partner for that horrible project." Thanks to some poor planning on my part, I wound up needing to take basic general education classes my senior year. Peeta sees it as a blessing - while he's overloaded with his advanced classes and internship, I get to coast by in English II and Intro to Music History. He has a point except that he constantly forgets that I spend my days with freshmen, who I hated even when we were freshmen.

I scan the bar when he's gone to find our next target. We play these kinds of games anytime we go out, judging people on their hair color, if they have a tramp stamp or tribal tat, what drink they're likely to get blackout drunk on, what undies they're wearing that night. The longer the night goes on, the more we drink, the raunchier and racier and, admittedly, the more judgmental we get. Just when I think I've spotted the perfect person, a bro-type in a Tap-Out shirt and backwards baseball cap, I catch Peeta still at the bar, talking to the girl we were just going on about. I struggle with this image, not at all impressed at how she touches his forearm or how he laughs just a little too loudly at something she says. Everything about her screams fake and she fits better with Tap-Out bro than Peeta.

"I should have known better than to ask you about a blonde. You've always had a thing for them. Even the bottle-blondes."

He gives me a strange look when he slides back into the booth. "Believe me, two seconds of listening to her voice turned me off completely. Besides, I've only got a thing for you," he adds with a wink that makes me roll my eyes. "So what's the new game?"

A wicked grin overtakes me. "Wild, Romantic, Obligation?"

He sighs. "I'm glad I got this second bucket then."

Two bucket nights is always a mistake. Because by the end of our second one, we're laughing way too hard at the old couple on the dance floor that Peeta has decided probably "still hump like monkeys" at the end of the night.

"But, to be fair," I slur, leaning against him as we drunkenly walk back toward our apartments. "You're a romantic so everyone humps like monkeys compared to you."

"You think I'm a romantic lover?"

I laugh loudly. "You just used the word 'lover' in our 'how do you fuck' game, Peeta Mellark. You are such a romantic in bed."

His eyes are so dark in contrast to the red from drinking. "You know nothing, Katniss Everdeen." His words send an intense shiver through my body.

"I know you better than anyone else."

"Except when it comes to sex," he answers. "Especially if you think I'm a romantic."

"You're saying you're not? That you're the kind of guy who would fuck a girl without taking off her skirt and panties because you have to have her right there?" I ask in my most ridiculously flirtatious voice, the one that only comes out when I'm as drunk as I am right now.

He licks his lips and I can feel his grip on my arm tighten. "Maybe. If it was the right girl."

I chuckle. "That's what I mean, Peeta. You talk about the right girl or the right moment or if it's what she was into. Wild fucks don't think that much about their partner. You crave intimacy and love and that kind of crap. You're a romantic through and through."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" I ask as we near our building.

"Are you saying you're a wild fuck?" It sounds so strange, that word slipping off his lips. Peeta has always been the more straight-laced of the two of us, using cute euphemisms while I let my sailor mouth fly. Every so often, he'd spit out a 'shit' or 'damn' but 'fuck' was almost always out of the question. It's a side effect of his mother's overbearing rules, I think.

I shrug, loosening myself from under his arm. "Maybe. It's been a while so sometimes I forget. But I'm fairly certain I'm too selfish to be a Romantic." I chuckle at my joke, the air between us unnaturally thick. His eyes are still dark and his breathing is heavy. "Maybe someone should remind me."

"Someday...someday your prince will come, Katniss." He's leaning in. I'm leaning in. I can count the freckles across his cheekbones. I can feel the heat radiating off his body. "Even if he is the romantic kind."

* * *

**~8 years later**

I sit next to Delly at the bridal shower not because I'm the maid of honor like everyone thinks, but because she's the only person I even vaguely know. Thankfully, her other bridesmaids took charge of organizing her shower and the bachelorette party the next night, so my only job today is to have fun and, in her words, help keep the bride-to-be sane around her old college friends. It may be more difficult than she realizes, but since I don't have to run anything, I suppose it's the least I could do.

"Okay girls!" A bridesmaid claps her hands. "The first game of the day is 'Delly Trivia'!"

I slink down in my chair. I've only just heard about Delly within the last couple days and now I'm supposed to answer questions about her? I'm closer to my sister's devil-cat than I am to Delly. She senses my reaction and leans over to reassure me that she doesn't care if I get them all wrong. "I hate this game anyway. It's totally biased toward those who wrote the questions. And these girls are so competitive I doubt they'll even notice anyone else's score besides their own."

"We'll start with an easy one," the bridesmaid announces, smiling at everyone in the circle. "What sorority did Delly rush in college?" Everyone laughs and begins writing on the white boards we've been handed for the game.

I stare at mine, wondering how the hell I'm suppose to know this about a woman I only met yesterday. The panic in my brain tells me that Delly only asked me to be her maid of honor so she could embarrass me. Isn't that what brides were supposed to do - be hideous and terrible to their bridesmaids so they look better? And what better way to make yourself look the best, to your future husband of all people, than to push down the only other girl in his life. If that is her goal, she's succeeding because I'm getting every question wrong - her major, first boyfriend's name, favorite food, what bone she broke in high school from a cheerleading injury.

"Last question! And it looks like the Leeg sisters are in the lead!" Twin blondes look at each other with the most plastic smiles I've ever seen. Delly, for her part, snorts but covers it up by coughing quietly. "How did Peeta propose?"

As if I needed one more reminder, now I'm being asked to write out how my best friend asked some other girl to marry him. I didn't even bother asking him at dinner; there was no way my heart could have taken any more abuse at that point. Honestly, I don't know that I wanted to know either. Nothing he could have done would ever compare to the way I used to imagine him doing it. He'd do something cheesy and romantic and slightly cliche but with just enough personalization to show how much he loved her - like baking her favorite bread or pastry and slipping the ring inside. I pictured him asking if he could have some, using those big blue eyes to wear her down until she agreed to share. She'd split it in half and there would be the ring, his Granny Mellark's ring that his dad gave him when he went off to college, "just in case." A simple, meaningful ring in a personalized, homemade bread "box." It's so Peeta that I have to write it down.

Delly's eyes well up when she reads my answer. "That's so much more romantic than the actual proposal," she confesses to the group when none of them get the right answer. "And so much less pathetic on my part." It turns out, when Peeta received his latest assignment, Delly started to panic about the state of their relationship. A long-distance relationship when he was in the same country was doable for them both, but the opposite side of the world was a totally different story. He told her he would take her with him but he didn't know how long he'd be gone or what kind of job she could get when they got back. "I told him he was right - that maybe when he left we would need to end our relationship. Dating with that kind of distance would be…"

"Almost impossible," I say without realizing. Peeta's constantly moving around was the reason he never had a serious girlfriend after college. Flings, yes, short-term things with a girl he met wherever he was, but never a real relationship. I'm fairly certain our friendship worked only because I was never needy about my time with him. I pushed him to take his first overseas assignment but I know most girlfriends wouldn't be so accommodating.

"Impossible," she agrees, groaning and burying her head in her hands. "Then I said 'It's not like we're married. Or even engaged.'" That was when Peeta proposed. They had only been together for six months or so, not long enough to start talking about marriage, but the idea of losing her was too much. He couldn't be without her.

The twinge of whatever it was I felt earlier that day was back. At the most basic level, it would be jealousy but there was definitely something else. I knew that feeling Peeta had at that moment all too well. It would seemingly explain why I felt such a sudden surge of unexpected feelings toward him. It was my biggest fear, losing Peeta for good, so the reality of him marrying someone else could explain it. But was it more complicated than that? Did Madge have a point about me refusing to acknowledge what else was there? I was prepared, excited even, to accept his proposal when I thought he was going to ask. Me. Katniss Everdeen. The girl who swore she'd never get married after her dad died because love destroyed her mom. Was this what it felt like when you loved someone?

The next game involves wrapping someone up in toilet paper to look like a bride and Delly would get to decide whose "dress" was the best. I pray that one of the other girls on my team will volunteer to be the "bride" but they all say that since I'm the smallest, I would be the best mannequin. Ultimately, I suppose it's the best option since I have absolutely no fashion sense and the other girls quickly wrap sheets of toilet paper around me and create a chic dress that easily wins the contest. Delly makes sure to get as many pictures as possible of the winning design and promises me copies because it is "that cute." I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and hate to admit I agree with her. If it were an actual dress, I would honestly consider wearing it for my own wedding. My mind begins to wander with that thought and I tilt my head to the side, seeing Peeta standing next to me in his tux. Spinning me to face him, the light pouring around us as he pulls me close for our first kiss as husband and wife.

I must look like a maniac as I rip the outfit off of me, but I can't breath. I need it off and I need it off now. Delly rushes me off to the bathroom to sit on the cool tub and calm down. "Peeta always said you hate wedding stuff," she says, handing me a glass of water. "I'm sorry. I should have pushed harder to make someone else the model. I guess I just got swept up in everything."

"It's okay," I say quietly, guiltily aware that I'm taking attention away from her big day. "Are you having fun?" It feels like the right thing to ask.

She sighs. "I guess. I'm not really close with these girls anymore. They all got stuck in their old life. They married into money and that's their way of thinking. They don't like what Peeta does at all and it drives me crazy."

"Is that why none of them are your maid of honor?"

She nods. "Partially. But I know how important you are to Peeta. And as much as he would prefer you to be his best man," she says with a soft laugh, "I suppose I'm a bit too traditional for that."

I look up at her and smile back. "Peeta is too," I tell her. "He seems really happy with you."

"I hope so," she laughs again. "He's an amazing guy. I don't know what I did to deserve him but I know I will never hurt him. Not like he's been in the past."

I hate that I believe her.

* * *

911.

Who is this?

Katniss

Ooooooh. What's wrong?!

It's about Peeta…I think you were right about us…

My phone rings less than five minutes after I've sent the text. "Hey."

"I knew it! Oh my God, Katniss, that's amazing! Ahhhh, you have to tell me what happened. Everything. What did he say? What did you say? I'm so happy for you you don't even know! I'm not even mad anymore about you just up and leaving because it means you're with him!"

I cringe as she continues to talk a mile a minute. When I packed up and flew off to District 12 for the wedding festivities, I didn't tell anyone. I never took vacation so I had enough days saved up to be able to leave with no real consequences and I told my boss I'd have my laptop with me in case of emergencies. I didn't want to admit to anyone, especially Madge, how absolutely wrong I had been about what was going to happen. I hadn't even fully accepted it at that time. "I'm, uh...I'm back home," I tell her once she pauses. "In Twelve. Well, we're in Twelve."

"You and Peeta? Oh my God, Katniss!"

"Yeah, me and Peeta. And, um, Delly," I add quietly.

The change in her voice is instant. "Who the hell is Delly?"

"His...fiance…" I tell her everything. From my shock at hearing the news to the two of us flying home and Delly picking us up with the biggest smile I've ever seen on someone's face. I tell her the things I don't want to - that she's genuinely friendly and didn't try to hug me when we met because she knew I didn't like hugs but knows exactly how much to touch Peeta in public without being gross.

"So...the big question for you was…"

I sigh. "If I would be the maid of honor at their wedding." I hear her pathetic groan and lay back on the bed. "I know, Madge. I'm just...I'm screwed, aren't I? What the hell am I supposed to do when this man that I...I...think I love...is getting married to someone else?"

She's quiet on the other side of the line and I know she's trying to think of something to say to this impossible situation. "You're not going to like what I have to say."

"I'm sure I already know but go ahead," I answer, completely defeated.

"I...I don't think there's anything you can do. Not if you're already there for the wedding."

"Shouldn't he at least know?" I ask in a quiet voice. I feel so vulnerable, so fragile, because for the first time I feel like I could actually have my heart broken. I'm desperate, clinging onto any half-baked idea I can think of to protect myself, even if it means being completely open to someone in a last-ditch effort. "Before he makes such a big decision, shouldn't he know everything? It's not fair to him to not tell him."

Madge, for her part, tries to remain calm in my building frenzy. "Katniss, deep down you know that won't end well for either of you. Think about it, what would you do if he doesn't say it back? What would he do?"

"I just...I can't lose him, Madge. I can't. Not without him knowing the truth."

She sighs softly into the phone. I know what she's thinking; it's the same thing I'd be saying to her if our roles were reversed. "I don't think it's a good idea. Telling him you love him just runs the risk of ruining the wedding."

I sit up quickly enough to make my head spin. "Madge, you're a genius!"

"What? Why?"

"Ruin the wedding. I could do that!"

"No. No, Katniss that's not what I was suggesting at-"

"But don't you see? It would totally work. If I can break them up before the actual ceremony then it's no harm no foul." The idea has me energized for the first time all day and I start planning all the different ways I can sabotage this relationship.

She's quiet again. "You're not that person, Katniss."

"I could be," I challenge. "If that's what it takes. I would do anything to keep him in my life."

"It's going to blow up in your face." After a pause, she sucks all the wind out of my sails. "You said yourself he seems happy. Why would you want to ruin his happiness?"

I sink back down to the bed. Because I'm selfish and I'm scared and if he marries her I'll be alone. Really alone. Peeta was my buffer against the reality of all of that. "You're right," I whisper.

"Be his best friend. That's what he needs from you. It sucks, I know it's hard, but that's all you can do at this point. Call me tomorrow?"

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Sure. Bye, Madge." I hang up and lay back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My brain knows that Madge is right, that it's me being selfish by telling him how I feel so close to his wedding. But my heart refuses to believe that.

* * *

**AN: **Thanks again to Swishy for letting my break her feels ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **So I usually do these at the end but I'll make the exception for this chapter ;). Each chapter starts with a flashback and then up to the future. There are only two more chapters after this and I'm hard at work on them. As always, thank you to Swishy for letting me break her feels with these idiots.

* * *

My mother is putting the finishing touches on my hair when we hear the doorbell ring. "Primrose, go let Peeta in," my mother insists. Prim, who has been watching my transition, pouts but does as she's told. I hear her chatting with Peeta downstairs, going on and on about what color my dress is and how jealous she is that she can't go to prom for another three years but she hopes that when she does go, she gets to look as pretty as her sister. His musical laughter floats upstairs and eases my tension.

"Are you ready?" She asks, putting the final pin in my hair.

I turn my head so I can see her work. "As ready as I will be," I mumble. When Peeta _insisted _that I go to prom with him, I fought him for days until he ultimately wore me down like he always did.

"What are you kids doing after?" She asks in her best attempt to be a mom after all these years. I'm not used to her being a part of my life so it's still strange when she offers to help or asks questions most parents ask.

I shrug. I'm honestly not considering doing anything after this dance except getting out of this fancy dress, letting my hair down, and eating the cheese buns Peeta promised in exchange for getting me to go. I stand up and flatten out my dress, ignoring any actual answer of her question. "I'll call you when we're on our way home." It takes me a while to wobble down the stairs in my heels since I've never tried to wear them before today. _Rookie mistake, Everdeen_I hear Peeta saying. He's sitting on the couch, talking to Prim, when I reach the bottom. She sees me first and gasps, even though she's seen the finish product already.

I know all of Peeta's smiles at this point, but the one he's wearing when he sees me is new. It's small, only lifting a quarter of an inch but it shows all the way through his eyes. And it makes me feel like I'm the only person in the room; that I'm more than just beautiful, I'm as radiant as the sun. I don't notice Prim is taking pictures of me until I'm at the bottom of the stairs and actually see her with the camera in hand. Peeta laughs when I scowl at her to stop and walks over to my side.

"You look great," he tells me, giving me a hug. "Seriously, Katniss, you look…amazing. Oh, here, I got you something." Prim hands him the plastic container he left on the couch. "I hope I got the tint right." In the contain is an orange orchid, the same shade as my dress and his tie. "I...messed around with it at home. It's a tough color to get just right but for you, I wanted it to be-"

"It's perfect," I tell him, with a breathy laugh. Never in my life did I think something like a corsage could elicit this behavior from me, but then again, I never really anticipated going to something like _prom_, so I blame this light feeling on that. "You ready?"

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," he jokes, walking me out to his car. As soon as we're both settled into his car, we start laughing. "This is going to be a blast, Katniss. I promise you."

"It better be...or you'll be doubling your cheese bun offer."

I have to admit, the dance is surprisingly fun. At least, being there with Peeta is fun. He's a terrible dancer but is fully aware of it and milks it for all it's worth, even getting me to do the robot with him at one point. We duck out early, not caring who wins king or queen, and make a quick stop at the Mellark bakery. Inside, I pull the cheesebuns out of the warming oven and Peeta grabs a small box off the counter that makes him turn red all the way up to his ears. "R-ready?" he asks, his voice cracking. He stuffs the small box into his suit pockets and ushers me back to his car so we can drive out to an abandoned playground equidistant from our houses. We found it when we first started high school and it quickly became our little place - far enough from our own realities that we could share with just each other. He lays out a blanket for us to sit on and enjoy our cheesebuns.

"Thanks for making me go," I tell him, nudging his shoulder with mine.

"Please. Thank you for agreeing to go with me. It would have been embarrassing going by myself to my senior prom."

I furrow my forehead. "Right, because everyone else you asked said no," I say sarcastically.

"I didn't ask anyone else," he says quietly, looking over at me. "Just you."

"Why me?"

He shrugs. "It's stupid," he mutters.

I shove his shoulder with mine again. "Come on, Peeta, I'm sure it's not stupid. You can tell me anything."

"Don't look at me when I say it." He laughs at the face I make and turns my head with his hand. "I'm seriously, Katniss, this is dumb but...prom is a rite of passage or whatever. And I like the idea of going through those little rites of passages with my best friend. Come on, I mean, you were my first kiss forever ago. We've been through the awkward puberty stages together, all the things you do that you remember and...I want to remember them with you."

I turn back to face him. "That's not stupid, Peeta. It's...it's very you." We sit for a while, eating cheese buns and staring up at the sky, trying to see the stars through the smog and dust that is forever pervasive in our small town. "What other rites of passage do you think about us going through?"

"Stop, Katniss."

"No," I argue, "I'm serious. What else have you thought about?"

He sighs. "Um, I don't know. Going to college, getting wasted in some seedy bar," he laughs, "losing our virginity, getting married, having kids, drinking tea as old people so we can bitch about the next generation. Most of those are...ridiculous, I know."

"I don't want to get married," I say quietly. "I can't end up like my mom."

"You give her too much credit, Katniss. You're not like her."

I shake my head because it doesn't matter what he says or thinks when it comes to my mom because I won't even let myself get to that point. "We could do those other things," I offer instead. "The college and drinking and...other stuff."

He turns to face me. "Other stuff? Katniss...I didn't...I wasn't trying...I…"

I smile and roll my eyes. "You're so easy to rile up, Mellark. I'm not saying tonight. I'm saying...whatever I trust you and that's what it should be about and whatever. Ugh, just shut up and eat some more cheesebuns."

**~12 years later**

Peeta and Delly decide that they're going to have a joint bachelor/bachelorette party a few days before the wedding. It suits me just fine, it'll be the first time since we arrived in District 12 that I get to hang out with Peeta. And with my conversation with Madge fresh in my mind, I know that tonight's the night to ruin their upcoming nuptials. We go to Abernathy's, the only bar worth it's salt in D12 and quickly enough lose the majority of the party to drinks and the karaoke stage up front. Peeta, Delly and I take a seat at table near the wall, close enough to the stage to hear the off-key singers but far enough away so we can watch the rest of the bar.

"It's almost not fair," I tell Peeta when he sets the drinks down in front of us. "We've known most of these people all our lives."

"We don't have to play, Katniss," he teases, sliding in next to Delly. "We could just have a normal night at the bar like every other person."

"Yeah because that sounds like fun. We just need to change the rules up, a bit. We could do…" I look around, trying to figure out some game to play that won't get old fast. "We could do song choice?"

"On or off key?" Peeta suggests with a grin. I nod because that definitely sounds like more fun than my thought. "We'll wait for the next singer so we can start fresh."

It starts out as a drinking game for us like the old days - the loser has to take a "shot" of whatever they're drinking - and before long we're tipsy and running down memory lane together, rehashing old times and old people. It was nice, being so casual and carefree with him again that I totally forgot about the other blonde at our table until Peeta got up to get us more drinks.

"You two go way back, huh?"

I look up at her, nursing her first beer to my third. She's been meticulously peeling the label off her bottle and has all the paper stacked neatly on the table in front of her. "Um, yeah. We've been friends forever, really."

"These games you guys play...they...they seem fun." It's a struggle for her to fit into this dynamic, clearly. But it's something she'll have to get used to, I tell myself, _at least for the night_.

"They are," I say back. "It was our compromise when we went out back in college. I hate small talk and Peeta could never stop talking, so it was kind of in between to watch people and make fun of them."

She chuckles uncomfortably. "Making fun of them?"

I tell her about the games we play, watching as her face shows her disapproval. _What kind of girl has Peeta found?_I wonder, if she can't even get behind a little bit of amusement at strangers' disposal. It's not like we're saying any of this to their faces. And we're not being outright meanto anyone, it's just people watching out loud. Not like she's so innocent of doing the same thing in her head. But it occurs to me that maybe elaborating on these games or playing one of the worst ones may help to drive a wedge of doubt between the two. So when Peeta returns, I tell him I think we should play "Teams."

Peeta nervously looks over at Delly, but I give his hand a squeeze under the table and he agrees. "Fine. But Delly and I are together."

_Of fucking course you are._ "Deal. The rules are, there's an apocalypse and we have to form teams to survive. The only catch is that you can't select your own team, you have to select for the other team."

"I don't…"

I grin wickedly over my newest bottle and nod toward an unfortunate looking gentleman with a bad tattoo and beer belly bigger than me. "Your team."

Peeta groans. "You're starting rough, Everdeen."

This game allows us time to talk to each other, giving me the perfect opportunity to dig up dirt on Delly without her or Peeta being aware of it. Including the fact that she cannot sing a lick.

"I'm terrible," she confesses. "Worse than Peeta."

Peeta and I both almost choke on our beers. Peeta has to be the most tone-deaf person

I've ever met, it's like he's never heard music before. For anyone to be worse than him is damn near impossible to believe, but the blush on her face tells me she's not lying. "Seriously?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "I guess I've never heard her sing. Not even in the shower."

"That's how bad I am."

"Oh come on!" I protest. "No one can be worse than Mellark. Go sing, we'll be the judges." A part of me knows that despite not being able to carry a tune himself, he's always had a thing for girls who could. At least, that's what he told me when he dated those girls from the high school show choir. Delly starts to protest when an idea pops into my head. "How about I go first and then you can go after me. It'll be easier that way."

Before Peeta can say anything, I'm out of my chair and pulling Delly up to where the song book is located near the stage. We flip through the book, trying to find her an easy song that can't be too hard to screw up, while I'm searching for my own signature song. It's slow and not exactly the typical karaoke song but at this point, I'm less concerned about typical. "Did you find one?"

Delly is still flipping through the book, looking like she's about to have a heart attack. "Katniss, this is really going to be a bad idea."

"Shush," I tell her. "Just pick your favorite song, have fun with it. This is your bachelorette party, Delly, you're supposed to be having fun. And besides, how many people have sung tonight and were any good?"

"None," she mumbles.

"Exactly. No one is going to remember you or your singing. We'll do a shot before hand, okay? Trust me." I smiled at her, totally ignoring the feeling in my gut and the quiet voice in my head that's screaming at me not to be a total bitch to her. She nods and quickly writes down a song and places it in the bucket with mine. We wander back over to the table and order a round of shots. When they arrive, Delly downs her instantly and when I slide mine across the table, she downs that one, too.

"Next up is a Miss Katniss Everdeen!"

Delly cheers loudly for me, the tequila clearly going straight to her head, and I give Peeta's arm a squeeze when I make my way up to the stage. It's not fair what's about to happen, not really, and I know that. But it doesn't stop me from singing the song Peeta and I danced to at prom together when it starts playing.

_Come away with me in the night_

_Come away with me_

_And I will write you a song_

_Come away with me on a bus_

_Come away where they can't tempt us_

_With their lies_

_I want to walk with you _

_On a cloudy day_

_In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high_

_So won't you try to come_

_Come away with me and we'll kiss_

_On a mountaintop_

_Come away with me_

_And I'll never stop loving you_

_And I want to wake up with the rain_

_Falling on a tin roof_

_While I'm safe there in your arms_

_So all I ask is for you_

_To come away with me in the night_

_Come away with me_

I don't bother handing the microphone back to the DJ. Instead, I call the bride-to-be up myself, not even bothering to hide the grin when I see her more-pale-than-usual self slowly walk toward me. "Ready, Del?"

"You were really good," she says, her eyes wide in fear. "I didn't know you were that good."

"You'll be fine." I talk back into the microphone. "This lucky lady is getting married in a few days and this is her first time singing. Let's give it up to Delly Cartwright!"

The crowd cheers and I push the microphone into her hands. The familiar bars of "Oops...I Did It Again" started and it took Delly a few seconds to actually pull the microphone up to her mouth and sing. And it takes only a second after that to realize that she was notkidding about how bad of a singer she is - it's downright painful. And despite the noises this audience have heard tonight, they're starting to turn on her. I can see the tears forming in her eyes and glancing back at Peeta, he looks concerned for her. Not embarrassed. Not turned off. Concerned. And I know what I have to do.

I jump up onstage, accept the other microphone from the DJ and help Delly muddle through the rest of the song. I don't know it very well but we make it through and by the end, she's smiling and the rest of the crowd is singing along. She runs off the stage and straight into Peeta's arms, promising him that she'll never sing in public again. I walk up behind them, trying not to interrupt their intimate moment, hating myself for not really being able to follow through with the basic plan of breaking two people up.

I really wish I didn't love him as much as I do.

She runs off to the bar to get more shots and Peeta turns to me. "You're a good friend, Katniss. Thank you for helping her."

I shrug, blinking back my feelings. "That's the maid-of-honor's job, right?"

He pulls me in for a hug that I refuse to read too much into. "You're still the best singer I've ever heard. And I love that song."

* * *

The wedding rehearsal is painful for me. Delly wants us to practice making sure we can make it the entire time in our heels, so I force my feet into my black heels and wobble my way up the aisle, clinging desperately to the arm of the best man - Peeta's brother, Rye. He's good natured about it but when I almost trip near the front of the church, I hear him start to snicker. I elbow him hard in the ribs like I did when we were young, which makes Peeta laugh. Delly and her father walk down the aisle, laughing softly about something none of us can hear. I can't watch her, so instead, I turn to Peeta. Even though she's not in her dress, his eyes are shining and he looks...happy. I wish I didn't love him so much. It would make this whole day easier on so many levels.

After we run through everything three times, Peeta announces that they'll be having a quick dinner for everyone to relax and enjoy each other's company at his parent's house. If the rehearsal ceremony was hard, I can only imagine what it'll be like to spend the evening with his mother. I'm sure she'll be over the moon that her youngest has finally settled down with someone so respectable as Delly Cartwright, heir to some sort of shoe fortune. Even if Delly has no interest in inheriting the family business, her last name alone carries enough weight to make the malicious cow happy. As if I need one more reason to hate Delly and it's not even her fault.

_Two more days_, I tell myself. _Two more days and I'll be done. _I accept Rye and Will's offer to drive me over to the house since I don't have a car of my own. It's a quiet ride. I don't know Will at all - he's quite a bit older than Peeta and was out of the house before we got into junior high. And Rye was always just Rye, the obnoxious older brother who wavered between completely ignoring Peeta's presence and poking his buttons just to rile him up. His favorite activity when we were in school was to try to make me blush with his crude remarks which always ended with Peeta taking a swing at him.

At the dinner, everyone groups off to sit with people they know, leaving me alone at my table, which is just fine with me. I don't eat much, instead picking at my homemade macaroni and cheese with my fork. I hear the chair beside me slide across the floor but I make no move to see who decided to join me.

"Hey, Kiddo."

"Hi, Mr. Mellark," I answer, still staring at my plate. Besides being the only person allowed to call me 'kiddo,' I'd recognize his deep baritone voice anywhere. He sounds like Peeta, only down a few octaves.

"Hey now, I've seen you throw up more times than I care to remember. I think we can be on a first name basis."

I finally glance up into those blue eyes that are exactly like his youngest son's and my cheeks start to tingle, a sure sign that I'm about to cry. I look away with a small laugh to cover it up. "Yeah. Okay, Harlan."

"You holding up okay?"

I nod. "Sure. It's just all this wedding stuff. It's crazy." I shrug, hoping he buys this excuse as to why I haven't touched my food. It was a running joke in the Mellark family that I ate more than the three boys combined so surely he's noticed my lack of appetite tonight.

"It's still a bit of a shock," he agrees, leaning back in the chair. I can feel his eyes on me but I know better than to look at him again. "You know, I would have bet money that it'd be you and him getting hitched. But you probably heard that a lot."

"Every once in a while," I answer. It was the most common question I got when people found out I was friends with him. Well, the second most common, since usually I heard 'Are you guys friends with...you know...benefits?' as if it were impossible for people to fathom that we could just be friends. Apparently, it was because here I am trying to keep my pathetic heart from falling apart for another day or two. "We made a stupid pact after graduation that we'd get married someday if we never met anyone else."

His laugh is hearty and sincere. "I'm not surprised." I chance a look at him. He's so casual with what I told him, as if he already knew Peeta did it. He laughs again. "Seems to be the mark of the Mellark men to make declarations like that so young. At least all he did was a pact. When I was eighteen, I was fully declare my love to my best friend. Something happened during the last few months of school and it all snapped in my brain, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. All that time, I just couldn't see what was right in front of me."

"I didn't know you and Mrs. Mellark were best friends," I snort. I don't even bother to try to backtrack because he's laughing again.

"Oh, oh no, Katniss. No, it wasn't Bev, it was...it was someone else."

"So you told her, this best friend of yours?"

He shook his head. "I was too late. By the time I worked up the nerve, she met someone else and it was clear I missed my chance. She ended up marrying him, I nursed my broken heart, and eventually met Bev."

"You could have still told her," I protest. "If she was your best friend wouldn't she have understood?"

His smile was sad, like he was reliving that exact moment in his memory. "I considered it. But she was happy with him. Happy like I had never seen with me. So I let her go."

My heart drops at his story, so eerily similar to my own situation. And he's giving me the advice that I don't want to hear; the same that Madge told me. It'd be selfish to take away Peeta's happiness just because I was too late to realize my own feelings so I suck in my cheeks and blink rapidly, refusing to cry again. "At least Peeta will be happy, right?"

He stares at me intently, the way Peeta always did when he was about to call me out for my bullshit. The kind of stare that makes you feel like he's seeing right through you. "I've seen my youngest at his absolute best. I hope he gets there again with her." Harlan gives my arm a squeeze before rising from his chair. "Sometimes...you know, sometimes I wonder if I had told her before she actually settled down with him if things would have changed. If maybe I purposely let too much time pass because I was too afraid of her reaction."

I turn my attention over to where Peeta is standing with his brothers. He catches my eye and smiles the smile that had always been reserved for his best friend. From the corner of my eye, I see that Harlan is watching his son as well.

"That's the kind of happy he deserves."


	4. Chapter 4

:: want me to kick his ass? ::

:: no but thanks for the offer :/ ::

:: you doing ok? ::

I stare at Peeta's message. After Darius broke up with me, he was the first person I texted. He was the only person I wanted to talk to, even though the two had never actually met. I could, and often did, lie to anyone else about breakups, but I couldn't lie to Peeta. He could see right through me, even when he was halfway across the country.

:: katniss? ::

:: this sucks ::

:: i know but you'll be okay ::

:: promise? ::

:: pinky swear ::

:: goof. sorry to keep you up ::

:: anything for you ;) ::

I can picture him rolling his eyes with a grin on his face. He's only a few hours different from me but it's still the middle of the night in the middle of the week. We both have work in the morning and while I can muddle through a day, he needs to be on top of his game so he doesn't miss anything important. But even as I tell him that, I miss his presence.

:: i wish you were here with me ::

Sleep doesn't come easy and I wake up every few hours until my alarm finally goes off.

* * *

Madge stops by my cubicle to let me know she has a lunch meeting so she can't join me today. I've been successfully keeping myself together all day, but as soon as she walks off, my facade starts to crumble. There go my hopes of being distracted for a while by whatever new story she has about her own crazy coworkers. She's always been good for that and has never pushed me to talk about things I don't want to talk about.

:: is it pathetic to take the afternoon off? ::

:: it's just a breakup ffs ::

:: i didn't even like him that much ::

:: i feel like a fucking failure rn ::

Peeta not responding - because he's being a responsible adult at his job - makes me feel even worse and solidifies my decision to go home early. I've gotten enough work done to justify it and can easily finish everything up tomorrow. Times like now are when I'm thankful I'm overqualified for my entry-level position. Effie keeps promising me a promotion when one opens up, but for now, I accept that I'm doing easy, grunt work that allows me more spare time than I need. No one will notice if I only get my daily work done today instead of getting ahead for the rest of the week.

I forgo lunch and head right back to my bed when I get home. I still can't sleep but being cocooned in my blankets is worlds better than being at work. My mind must be miles away from my body because when I finally reconnect, there's an unfamiliar warmth in my apartment, stemming from the mug of tea on my nightstand. I sit up and take a long sniff - cinnamon and orange rinds, my favorite. There are only three people who know how I take my tea, but only one who whistles while making it. He may not be able to sing, but Peeta's a fantastic whistler.

I wrap my blanket around me, clutching my warm mug of tea, and pad into the kitchen where Peeta is pulling something hot and delicious-smelling from the oven. I haven't seen him in months, so I lean against the wall to watch him work. He's always been at home in the kitchen, something all of his girlfriends seemed to appreciate almost as much as I did. My first job in life was the official Peeta-Mellark taste tester whenever he wanted to experiment with food and he never disappointed. "I should change my locks at some point," I say quietly.

He sets the tray down and smiles at me. "Then who would make you tea and cheese buns when you're blue?" He walks over to me and envelopes me in his strong arms. After so long, he still smells like the Peeta Mellark I've always known. "You okay?"

I nod into his shoulder, because now that he's here, I am better. He always makes me feel better, just by being there. "Why aren't you at work?"

"I took a few days off," he answers.

"You can do that?"

"I can do whatever I want right now. I'll lose the shot and the assignment but that's nothing compared to making sure you're not holed up in your apartment for a few days with just Ramen soup to eat." He tips my chin up and looks into my eyes. "I'm here to take care of you, Katniss. Like always."

Like always.

**~5 Years Later**

After a few hours of talking to everyone who could possibly be involved in the wedding, Peeta - who is normally so comfortable in these situations - looks like he wants to just collapse. I haven't talked to him all day out of fear of breaking down but I can't stand to see him this way. I grab his elbow and apologize to whoever is taking his time at the moment, claiming some "bridal party emergency" and rush him out to the back porch for some fresh air.

"Thank you," he sighs, leaning against the railing.

"Please, I needed out of there just as much as you did," I joke.

He chuckles. "It has been a little excessive for you, hasn't it? All of this."

I don't answer because I'm afraid if I tell him that yes, every moment of me being here for his wedding to someone else is too much for me, he'll know what I really mean. Or maybe worse, that he won't know what I mean. That I've lost too much of him already. We hear the continued noise from inside, including his mother calling for him and he groans.

"I really don't want to go back in yet."

I smile and take his hand in mine. "So let's not. Come on, we haven't had any time to ourselves since I got here. You've got your keys, right?" He tosses them to me and we walk to his car. I drive us to our overgrown, abandoned playground, now resembling more of a meadow than anything else. I toss my heels into his backseat and start searching around for the blanket I'm sure he has in here because he's always prepared for everything.

He knows what I'm searching for and leans into the back, helping me try to find it. We both grab it at the same time and our fingers brush. I ignore the feeling that passes through me and let him bring it up to the front. We quietly wander toward an open space and lay the blanket out to settle down on.

"Does it ever feel like nothing in this town changes? You still can't see the stars."

"I could never see them my place," he admits. "The lights and smoke from the businesses always blocked them out. Your yard was better for it."

"Except it was a shit part of town."

"I liked it there," he says quietly. "Better than at home. I hated it at home."

"I know." I turn to him, seeing the young Peeta Mellark that I grew up with; his face littered with black eyes and swollen cheeks, unseen bruises on his back and legs, scars of his life, consequences of being born to a witch. I suppose I see the appeal of Delly to him - she smiles, she compliments him, she cares about him. She loves him.

When I tell him that, he laughs. "You loved me first, Katniss. When I didn't even think I deserved it. If it hadn't been for you…"

"Then you're welcome," I joke, trying to fight the raw emotions from taking over. "Clearly you owe me big time."

"Somehow I don't think cheesebuns will do it this time," he jokes back. He's quiet again, not the calm quiet we're used to having between us but an anxious quiet, like he's trying to think of what to say next. More like he's nervous about something. "Do you believe in signs, Katniss? Like maybe the universe sends signals that tell us if we're making the right choices in life?"

I sit up and stare at him. Peeta and I have talked about religion and fate and destiny before, but this is different. He's always been steadfast in his belief that the things that happen in our lives happen for a reason, even if we can't understand it. That's what he told me after my dad died, it was my source of light in that darkness. It was what helped him stay such a good person despite what his mother did to him. _Things happen, Katniss,_ he would tell me, _and we get stronger because of it._

"What's going on, Peeta?"

"I don't know her favorite color," he laughs. "Isn't that stupid? I mean, it's so tiny and insignificant but I don't know it. I never thought to ask her."

I shrug, remembering back to the first time he asked me my favorite color. It was in kindergarten and resulted in a drawing for me with my name sloppily scrawled across it in green crayon. "Maybe...maybe that's something that you learn in the next six months of your relationship." I don't know if I mean it to be a joke or not, but he laughs. It's not his real laugh, it's the one he uses when he's caught in a lie. It's rare but distinct.

"We don't have a song, either. The wedding is tomorrow and we still don't have a song to dance to for our first dance. Delly says we can just let the DJ decide if we can't."

The stars reflect the tears welling up in his eyes and I reach out for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. "Hey," I squeeze his hand. "Hey, Peeta, look at me." When he turns his watery gaze over to me, it breaks my heart. "This is...normal...I'm sure. Cold feet or something. Look, I'm no good at this, but…" I smile at him and brush away one of his tears, hating that my best friend is hurting at all. "You can borrow ours, our song, until you find your own."

"Katniss," he whispers, cupping my face with his free hand, his thumb lingering on my cheekbone. "I can't."

"It's not like I got you anything else."

He relents; he's not relieved like I expect him to be, but at least his heart isn't shattering quite the same as mine at that moment. I'm giving him away completely with this. Because even if they do eventually find their own song, it'll always be ours that they remember. I've lost the last bit of him.

And somehow, I think we both realize that.

* * *

My mind races in the morning. Delly picks me up from my hotel room to take me to the salon so we can get our hair done and even she's unnaturally quiet. She's probably nervous, but I can't be bothered with her right now. Normally, I would fight the uniform hairstyle that have been selected for the bridesmaids, but this morning I welcome it. The fewer decisions I have to make today, the better. In fact, I fully intend to say as few words as possible until I have to give my speech at the reception. The speech where I tell my best friend and his new wife that I wish them the best and a lifetime of happiness and all the other lies I've made up for his behalf.

I watch my transformation in the mirror. They wash and style my hair, paint over the dark circles under my eyes, make me look like I'm supposed to. But nothing shakes the heaviness of my heart and the feeling of absolute loss that looms over me.

Pictures are taken throughout the process; bridesmaids with Delly, bridesmaid selfies, anything and everything to capture all the special memories. I snap a picture of myself and debate sending it to Peeta with some message of my situation but decide against it. This day isn't about me and him. It's about him and Delly. The more I repeat that in my head, the worse I feel. But it's still the truth that I need to accept.

We huddle in a room in the church basement, sipping white wine and snacking on the buffett of food the Cartwright family has provided us. Nothing has any taste. The wine is sour on my lips and the sandwiches dissolve to mush in my mouth.

I sit on one of the sofas by myself since the other bridesmaids know each other better than they know me. According to them, I'm just 'the groom's friend' and I'm pretty sure the one that ran the bridal shower thought she was a shoo-in for the position before I came around. I stare down at the bridesmaid dress I changed into after deciding I wasn't going to try to eat anymore. Delly and I did an emergency shopping trip when I got into town and had a family friend do all the alterations. It was a beautiful dress, even if it was a soft pastel pink. Not the color I would have chosen and I am still surprised that Peeta, who can see colors that no one else can, agreed to it.

I always pictured him with orange, that soft orange that reminds me of sunset. Even if he used to insist on a forest green.

Delly seems to have shaken off her nerves and is getting into the spirit as well, smiling brightly and directing last-minute plans with ease. I listen to the rest of the girls tittering on about whatever it is they're talking about and I feel incredibly alone. I pull my phone out of my pocket and I unlock it, staring at the background picture of Peeta and I from college graduation. I don't know who took it or how it ended up on my phone, but I'm glad it's there. He's dramatically kissing my cheek and my scowl is exaggerated, but our smiles are hidden underneath.

:: having fun? ::

I don't expect him to reply since I'm sure he's busy doing whatever it is that grooms do on their wedding day. But it makes me feel better.

:: a blast. you? ::

He sends me a picture message next of him in between his brothers who are both drinking a beer and hollering about something.

I snap a picture of myself with the room behind me, making sure not to get any of Delly. Even if she's not in her dress yet, I'm sure he'd see it as some sort of sign. And like it or not, I need to support him as his friend.

:: you clean up nice Everdeen ::

He sends me a picture of the Mellark pastries and breads that his dad brought over and I send him a picture of me flipping him off, confident that a Mellark apple-cheese tart would boost my mood for at least a few minutes. More confident that being in that room, even with the other Mellark boys, would boost my mood indefinitely.

A collective squeal fills the room. I turn my head and see that Delly has brought her dress out of the side room where she'll be getting dressed and is showing it off to people. I suppose it's a beautiful dress, I imagine she'll look like Bridal Barbie in it with her perfectly curled blonde hair, but it's too full and flashy and bejeweled for my liking. With all the tulle underneath, she's bound to look like a cupcake. Another thing I would never have imagined Peeta being a fan of. But it's the hanger the dress is on, a homemade gift from one of the Sisters, that catches and holds my attention. _Mrs. Mellark._

The room is spinning around me and I can't breathe. I need to get out. I need out.

I'm sitting on the back steps of the church with my head down, trying to catch my breath. I don't see the shadow cross over me but I know it's him anyway. I always know when he's around me. Everything in my body hums at it's own wavelength when Peeta's around. He sits beside me and watches me out of the corner of his eye.

"I didn't know you smoked," he says. When I look at him, he nods at the unlit cigarette sitting in the lap of my dress.

I snort. "I don't. But it was the only thing I could think of that would let me get outside without anyone wanting to follow me. You should have seen the looks on those girls' faces when they thought I'd smoke in my bridesmaid dress."

"Good," he answers, reaching for the cigarette, snapping it in half and throwing it out. "Why did you need an excuse to go outside?"

I fiddle with the fabric of my dress and shrug, hoping he'll just assume it's because being around wedding stuff was too much for me. That's been my excuse for so long, there's no reason for him to suspect anything else. But he doesn't assume that, or if he does, he needs to hear me say it because he bumps my knee with his. I shake my head; the more he urges me to tell him what's wrong the more I want to. He's my best friend, I tell him everything. I've never kept a secret from him; I can't count how many parties and surprises I've ruined because I can't lie to this man.

_Katniss, deep down you know that won't end well for either of you. Think about it, what would you do if he doesn't say it back? What would __he_ _do?_

"I don't know," I whisper. "I just did."

"Katniss Everdeen. In all the years I've known you, you've never not known why you did things," he challenges. "You may not know it while you're doing it but you always know. You do things with a purpose. So what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"I can't get married knowing you're unhappy with something, Katniss."

The arrow through my heart. The final crack in the dam. I look at him, really look at him in his tuxedo, his hair styled back with a hint of his natural waves peaking through, and I break. "I needed to get away from Delly."

He reaches for my hands. "You don't like her?"

I laugh and shake my head. "This would be so much easier if that were true." I know I'm not making sense to him so when he squeezes my hands to prompt me, I take a deep breath. "I do like her...she's very...sweet. I just...you're not supposed to marry her."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Who-"

"You're supposed to marry me." I spit out in one shallow breath. "You're supposed to want to marry me." I'm glad the stylists used waterproof mascara otherwise it'd be running down my cheeks right now. Because as the words slip past my lips, the tears I've been holding onto so desperately slip past my eyes. "I love you, Peeta. I …"

He stops me with his lips. His palm is cupping the side of my face, lips slanted against mine, making my stomach flutter. I pull him closer, needing to believe that this moment is real. I could kiss him forever, the feel of his lips against mine, the scent of his skin so close to me, the heat and passion between us is almost overwhelming. The loss of which leaves me cold. When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine and we're both breathing hard. He opens his eyes to look at me and I want to smile, expecting to see that look from prom night, from the night we lost our virginities, from the look he gave Delly during the rehearsal.

His usually joyful blue eyes are cold.

"I...I can't do this." He pulls away from me and stands, turning his body. "I...that was a mistake. I…" His face is cupped in his hands and he paces for a few seconds. Peeta turns to me with a frown. "I'm getting married, Katniss. You...you can't say something like that to me. Not today."

"I had to,"

"No. No, Katniss you've had years to tell me that. You've had your entire life! And you chose today? Right now, a few hours before I'm supposed to pledge my life to someone else?" His hands are running through his hair, neverminding the gel. "Why?"

My mouth opens and closes as I stare at him still trying to work through what's just happened. "You needed to know," I say, wishing I had just listened to Madge now and faked my way through the festivities. "I was...scared before...but I can't lose you, Peeta. You're mine and I'm yours and we're supposed to be with each other. Always, remember?"

He pauses and turns to face me. "Is that what this is about? That's why you're suddenly so able to tell me you love me and you want me and want to marry me? Because I'm about to marry someone else?"

"I…"

"That's not love, Katniss, that's you being selfish. I've been waiting to hear you tell me you love me. You know you've never said it, right? In twenty-five years of our friendship, no matter how many times I've said it to you or have shown you that I love you, you've never said it back."

"I have…" I begin to protest. But then it all flies back to me. I've only ever told Prim that I love her. The most I've ever said to Peeta is a pathetic _me too_. And even then, I usually don't say that. But he can't doubt me, not when I've finally said it. Out loud. Those three words that he knows I've struggled with since my dad died. "I've been afraid to."

"You've been afraid of being alone." His voice is quiet and cuts through me. "You've taken me for granted for so long because I've always been there for you when you needed me. Because you're my best friend. Because I love you." He's quiet for a few moments and I can't do anything but watch him in stunned silence. We've never spoken this way to each other, intentionally hurting the other. Yes, in our history, I've said things I regret, but it was always a knee jerk reaction. Peeta doesn't knee-jerk, he's thoughtful and meticulous. "It was supposed to be me and you forever, Katniss. It didn't matter that you didn't want to get married or have kids or do anything according to tradition. All that mattered is that I wanted it to be you. Forever."

_It still can be._

"I don't know that it can, Katniss," he answers dejectedly when I accidentally say my thoughts aloud. "Fuck. I mean, you get it, right? That this," he waves his arms toward the church, "is never what I imagined. Or wanted."

My body reacts immediately, as it always does to him. I'm on my feet and envelope him in my arms as tightly as I can. "I'm sorry, Peeta," I whisper over and over. It's all I feel. It's all I can say. "I'm so sorry."

"I…" He leans down and kisses me again, more softly this time. An apology. An acceptance. A hello. A goodbye. The kiss is so much and nothing and I don't know what to think except that I want more.

"Peeta?" A feminine voice calls out and we break apart. "Katniss? What's…"

We break apart and standing in the doorway of the church, staring at us with wide blue eyes is Delly, fully dressed in her gown. "Delly…" Peeta breathes, pulling away from me and reaching out for her. Her face begins to break and she turns, running back into the church. "Delly!" Peeta yells, chasing after her, leaving me on the back step.

Alone. Confused. Completely broken.

* * *

**AN: Yeaaaaah. I'm sorry about this. BUT next chapter is the last one and that means...HEA :). Thanks for sticking with me so far and I hope I can mend all the broken feelings with the next chapter. As always, thanks to Swishy for approving the broken feels.**


	5. Chapter 5

"You're sure you have everything?" I ask, handing him his travel duffel from my trunk.

Peeta just laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. "Yes, Katniss, I have everything. You made sure last night, remember?"

I pull the corner of my lower lip between my teeth. We spent Peeta's last night in the city at my apartment, since all of his stuff either got shipped back to his parents or packed into storage right after we graduated and would stay there for who knows how long, and I may have spent a few hours double, then triple, checking that he wasn't going to forget anything and have to spend what little money he had on something silly. "I'm just...worried."

"Worried, Everdeen? Are you sure you're not going to miss me?"

"Of course I'm going to miss you, idiot." I say, slapping his arm. "Text me when you land?" I know I can't go much further with him, so we agreed to say our goodbyes outside the airport and not prolong anything. He said it was so he didn't have to see me cry but we both know he's the one that'll break down as soon as he gets through security and his leaving becomes real.

He pulls me in for a hug, both of us holding on tighter than any hug in the past. I cling to his shirt, imprinting his scent onto my brain. I don't cry, not this time, but I can feel his body shaking against mine. He's whispering something I can't hear, but I can sense. Because it's the exact same thing that I'm feeling about him but just can't say. He's better with words; all I can do is hold onto him for as long as I can.

I don't cry when he pulls away and I ignore his red eyes and tear stains. I kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand one last time before he leaves me next to my car and enters the airport. One last glance over his shoulder, one last smile my way, and that's it. Without knowing when my best friend may return, I let him go.

* * *

:: landed ::

:: i kinda miss you already ::

:: only kinda? ::

My phone buzzes with a picture message. It's of him in his hotel room, bottom lip sticking out in a massive pout. His eyes are still tinted red, but his cheeks aren't puffy, so he's done a pretty good job of cleaning himself up.

:: new contact pic ::

:: nooooo ;) ::

I take a picture of me laughing at him, but at the last minute, change my mind and send him a different one.

:: nice scowl, Everdeen. ily ::

:: me too Mellark. ::

**~8 years later**

I wait a few moments for Peeta to return but when it's clear he's made his decision, and it's that he's with her, I brush off my dress and wipe my eyes. If I'm going to return to that waiting room, there's no way I'm going to look a mess. The news of what's happened hasn't hit the rest of the girls when I get back. One of the bridesmaids asks if Delly found me and I shake my head, not trusting my lousy lying skills.

"Hmm. Okay. Well, she was looking for you but she should be back anytime soon."

I know that as soon as she does, my duties as "maid of honor" will be over. Who would want someone like me standing beside them at the alter? The consequences of what's happened roll over me in harsh waves. Not only will I no longer be a part of their wedding, but I doubt Delly will want Peeta to keep me in his life. I even wonder if Peeta still wants me in his life. Getting married was always part of Peeta's life plan and I went and screwed it all up because I'm the idiot who was too afraid of ending up like my mother to realize that it always could have been me.

I text Madge a simple message.

:: You were right. I fucked up. Text you when I can ::

:: I'm sorry, Katniss. ::

A knock at the door frame pulls my attention away from my phone, where I'm half tempted to send Peeta a text and ask him if he needs to talk. Looking up, I see Harlan standing there, his face ashen, and he stares right at me. "I, um, I need to tell you girls something."

* * *

Madge picks me up from the airport that night and envelopes me in a bone-crushing hug as soon as she sees me. She doesn't even scoff when I cry into her shoulder, she just lets me cry in the middle of the airport like an idiot. I cry until there are no more tears, until I'm just a shaking mess of my former self. She doesn't say anything to me, no 'I told you so's' or 'what did you expect' or anything that she should be saying to me because it's what I deserve to hear.

She tells me on the ride to my apartment that she's called my sister to come look after me. Normally, would fight that but at this point I don't have the energy to do anything, so I allow it. Prim won't make any of this better, which she'll quickly figure out and will be back to her life in no time. I stare at my phone. But the one person I want to text me, to reassure me that everything is okay and that he still loves me isn't there. Harlan said it may be a while before Delly or Peeta were ready to talk about what happened and not to push them, but I knew what he meant.

_He doesn't want to talk to you. Leave him alone. Stay out of his life._

I promise Madge that I'll be okay for the night when we arrive at my apartment. Thankfully it's still Saturday night so I'll have all day tomorrow to wallow before I have to think about work again. And wallow I do. I don't even bother getting out of bed except to go to the bathroom once or twice. I have no appetite, no energy, no desire to do anything except hide in the security of my blankets and stare at my phone.

Prim arrives Monday night. She tries to force dinner into me but I refuse - just like I refused Madge's lunch invitation earlier in the day. I retire to my room, exhausted from the limited work I accomplished. She sits on the edge of my bed that night; silent and patient. She used to do this with our mother when she was younger. I wish that realization was enough but my mind is so preoccupied that I can't force the memory to have meaning. I wake up the next morning, after a fitful night of sleep, with her hand clutched in mine.

"We need to talk about what happened." It's no longer a question, a request for me to open up, but a demand. She's been trying to get me to say anything about what happened between Peeta and I at the wedding but I've been refusing. Because I know I'm the one who messed up and I don't need to be reminded.

I shake my head. "It hasn't been that long, Prim."

She stares at me. "Katniss, it's been almost three weeks."

I furrow my eyebrows, racking my memory for any indication of how much time has passed, sure there's no way I've slept walked through almost a month. "I can't."

"You either talk to me or I'll call Dr. Aurelius and he'll fly in." I know she's serious with that threat. Dr. Aurelius was Mom's doctor. Or still is, I suppose. He's been the only one to get through to her enough to help her actually see the right path. Prim's been a fan of his ever since she sat in on one of their sessions. She's been begging me to come too, but I never do. He may be good but I haven't forgiven my mother enough for that.

So I tell her the entire story. I tell her that sometimes at work I'll call him and hang up right away but he never calls back. I tell her that at night, the only thing that helps me sleep is seeing his eyes and feeling his kiss. "I love him," I admit. "I think I always have."

"Of course you always have. Just like he's always loved you. And he still does," she says, reaching out for my hand. "You'll see." Prim has always been the more hopeful one between us.

But another six weeks pass and I still don't hear from him. That's the weekend I decide to clean him out of my life. I start at work, taking down every picture and putting all the silly gifts he's given me into the bottom drawer of my unused file cabinet. I fill boxes and boxes of memories from my apartment, stuffing them into the back of my closet where I'll never see them. I tear apart the maid of honor dress that taunts me. I change my background pictures on my phone and computer. I delete our text history and move all my pictures of him to a jump drive that I add to the boxes. It does no good to take his number off my phone - I've had it memorized for years - so I leave it.

The apartment, and my life, is void of any physical remembrance of my best friend. I tell myself the emotional baggage will be dropped eventually. And then maybe I'll finally feel like I can breathe again. Madge and Prim are both skeptical about what I've done but I'm resolute. I cannot waiver for him.

Slowly, life goes on.

Which is why, after three months of absolutely no contact, when I find him sitting outside my apartment building, I don't know what to do. The urge to restart my car and drive somewhere, anywhere, else builds inside me like an inferno. I could do it easily enough. He hasn't caught sight of me just yet so he'd never know I was there. Except I'd know. And even after three long months of being ignored by my best friend, he's still my best friend. And I've missed him. I've missed him so much it hurts.

His hair is longer than the last time I saw him, hanging almost past his ears in the same unruly curls, and his whole body looks thinner and more ragged. I subconsciously run my fingers over the end of my braid, wondering just how sickly I must look. I've been doing a subpar job of pretending that everything is okay - fooling those who don't know me all that well. Madge still has to watch me at lunch to make sure I'm eating and comes over on the weekends to urge me out of bed. And I'm pretty sure she's still in contact with my sister because Prim will send me texts every so often 'just to check in.' I suspect it's been relatively similar for Peeta.

"You look like shit, Mellark," I say quietly, walking up toward him.

He raises his head and stares at me, a smirk on his face. "I will have you know, Everdeen, that this is what thirteen hours on a plane looks like."

I crinkle my nose. "Did you get lost? It's only 5 to Trinidad." I hate that I know that, but I chalk it up to something I learned in my failed maid-of-honor duties and not because I was worried about him.

"I spent some time in Uganda documenting the start of the Ebola breakout after Trinidad," he says, running his hand through his hair. "And came...here because it turns out I don't have anyplace else to go in this city."

It's the first time I notice he has his well-used travel duffel next to him along with all his photography equipment, not even bothering to drop his stuff off at whatever hotel he's staying at. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, debating my next move. It's not really much of a debate. It wouldn't matter if we hadn't talked for three years, he's still Peeta Mellark. "Well come on then." I walk past him into the building and start up the stairs to my apartment. I'm only a few steps up when I hear him coming behind me.

"You redecorated," he says when he finally enters my apartment, shutting the door behind him. I take a deep breath because of course he would notice the changes. He'd see that the photographs that once adorned my walls are gone and the place generally looks dull and lifeless. "I don't like it."

I'm unable to stand still around him, so I flitter around the kitchen, filling up my electronic teapot just so I can work off some of this anxiousness. "I tried to call you." I don't mean to say that. I mean to ask him if he wants a snack or shower or...a nap or anything else but my brain overrules my mouth and the statement hangs between us.

"I know."

"I wanted to talk to you about...what happened."

"I know," he says again.

"How's Delly?" At least this time I know he won't be able to repeat himself.

I can hear the sharp inhale of breath. "She's...angry. Still."

"At me."

"At me," he corrects. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles. "Okay, yes, and at you. But more at me, deservedly so."

"I'm sorry I ruined your wedding." The tea kettle whistles and I scour my cabinets for the tea we had the last time he was here. It may be old as hell but Peeta always steeps his tea longer than most people. I hand him his cup and take a seat on the far side of the couch.

He shrugs and accepts the tea I offer him. "You didn't, Katniss. Not really. At least, not because of...nothing you did ruined the wedding, it was completely me. And the thing is...I think I knew all along that Delly and I weren't right for each other."

"Then why-"

"Because you were so insistent for so long that you weren't going to ever get married, Katniss. I don't think you understand that if you had ever even hinted at the possibility, I would have waited forever for you like I always planned to. But," he sighs, "I didn't want to push you. Not that I could have, really, without pushing you further away from me, so I didn't."

"It's not your fault," I say quietly. Because he's right - how many times did he bring up the idea of us being together forever and I brushed it off. Or reminded him that we would be because we'd always be friends, even though I knew what he meant.

"No, it is. I shouldn't have proposed to her when I knew it wasn't right."

He knows what question I want to ask but can't. I know he knows because he looks at me and hangs his head in disappointment.

"I panicked. We were good together, me and Delly, you know? I mean, we got along and she made me laugh and it was so easy being around her that I thought maybe it would be enough. But...I don't know. Turns out that maybe I need a little more difficulty in my life." He looks over at me with a smirk that I want to return but can't. "But it doesn't really matter anymore," he continues with a sigh. "It was a dick-move on my part to propose to someone when I was clearly in love with someone else. That's what Delly said, anyway."

"She has a point," I say over the rim of my mug.

"You don't have to agree with her," he pretends to protest, leaning his head back against the couch. "I'm a pretty big fuck up."

I've heard him describe himself that way before and even if I can't put my finger on when, I know who put that idea in his head anyway. "Did she tell you that?"

"Of course not. She called me an ass and an idiot but not a-"

"Not Delly," I interrupt firmly. For the first time since he's gotten back, he can't hold my gaze. And it hits me that I never considered what happened with his family when he called off the wedding. Peeta's mother approved of Delly, or at least approved of making her a Mellark. And from the rare times I saw Mrs. Mellark around her youngest son during wedding preparations, she hadn't laid a hand, or a harsh word, on him. In that witch's eyes, Peeta had finally done something worthwhile with his life.

I always considered it my job as his best friend to protect him from her wrath. And for three long months, I didn't. Staring at him now, I can only imagine what she screamed at him. I scoot closer to him and pull his face to look at me. "Peeta."

"Nothing more than the usual," he says quietly. "Nothing I haven't heard before."

"You should have told me," I chastise him. "You're supposed to tell me when shit like that happens, Peeta."

He snorts. "She said it when they dropped me off at the airport. She didn't say a word to me until that very last moment. What could you have done?"

"Been there with you like…" _Like I always had been. Like I always should be. Like I always will be_.

"Like you always had been," he completes for me, covering my hand with his. "I'm sorry that I never called you back. I wanted to so much, you don't even understand. I missed you so much that I just sat there, telling myself I'd answer next time you called and I would apologize for acting so wounded. But then you didn't call again and I just...I thought I had finally lost you like I was always afraid of doing."

"Delly was right. You are an idiot sometimes. I stopped calling because I thought I lost you once and for all."

"Is that why your apartment is so boring?"

I nod. "It was easier to not be constantly reminded by my failure."

"You know that you can never ever lose me, right Katniss? I mean, we're blood." He holds up his finger and forces my hand open so he can press our scars together. "I belong with you."

"You're mine," I tell him, a smile finally drawing across my face. "Even though I've got the personality of a slug."

"Yeah but you're my slug," he answers, clasping his hand around mine. "You will always be my best friend, Katniss Everdeen, no matter what. I love you, okay?"

I roll my eyes. "I love you too, Peeta Mellark."

* * *

Peeta still travels for work, but has managed to remain somewhat local and comes back more often. He sleeps on my couch and slowly, we repair our splintered friendship. Sometimes he talks about Delly and the wedding but more often than not, we stick to safer topics - which is anything other than what happened that day. I'm fairly certain his feelings haven't changed and I know mine haven't, but I'm too afraid of bringing it up and ruining the progress we've made. Because above all else, he is and always will be my best friend. That has to come first.

"What do you want to do for your birthday?" I ask him the morning of. This is the first time we've been in the same part of the country for his birthday since college but he's shot down all my plans and hasn't come up with any of his own. All week he's been avoiding the subject and even my teasing that he'll be an old man soon hasn't affected him. "Dinner? Movie? Night in?"

"I can cook dinner."

"Peeta Mellark!" I snap at him, smacking his arm. "You are not cooking your own birthday dinner."

"But I like cooking," he whined, playfully. "Besides, it's just another day for me. You know that."

Yes I do. Peeta loves celebrating other people's birthdays but avoids his own whenever. He's been that way for as long as I can remember and it all has to do with his mother. She used to get more moody than normal around his birthday and would shut herself up in her room the entire week. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly a joyful occasion for him as a child and that carried with him into adulthood. "At least come have lunch with me?"

He dramatically rolls his eyes and groans sarcastically. "Fine. Jeez, Everdeen, you're pushy."

"Damn straight," I answer with a smile. "See you this afternoon."

Ever since Peeta returned and we actually started talking, work has been relatively enjoyable; it helps that I've rehung all his photographs so it feels like he's really back with me again. Madge teases me about it but I can tell she's glad to see the old me. And since she took care of me when I didn't deserve it, I don't roll my eyes too hard at her. She knows Peeta is coming by this afternoon to take me out for his birthday lunch so she's been creeping around my workspace for the last few hours so she can catch a glimpse of him.

"Where are you guys going?" She asks as the clock ticks closer to noon. I don't know what time he's planning on showing up, which only frustrates Madge.

I shrug and finish inputting some data that someone else screwed up a few days ago. "It's up to him, I suppose. It's his birthday."

"What if he wants to just stay here?"

Madge and I both look up and see Peeta leaning against the wall of my work space with a smirk. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out how the hell his noisy walker was able to sneak up on me after so many years.

"This is Peeta? Damn, Katniss," Madge all but whistles at him, eyeing him from head to toe. "No wonder. Hi. I'm Madge, one of Katniss' only friends here."

I glare at them both when Peeta laughs and shakes her hand. "And here I was thinking she was miss popular like in high school."

"Enough," I say, as they both start snickering at my expense. "Are you ready for lunch?" I ask, staring at Peeta and ignoring Madge. If I'm not careful, she'll get herself invited along and it'll just be an afternoon of making fun of me.

"Yep. But we're staying here," he says, picking up a small basket from the floor and plopping it on my desk.

"You made your own lunch, too? I thought we had a deal."

He just ignores my protest and starts unpacking the basket, laying out more food than we can possibly eat in one sitting. "You had a deal but it's my birthday and this is what I want. So there." He sticks his tongue out at me and turns to Madge. "Did you want to join us?"

"Madge has plans," I say, giving her a hard look. As much as I like Madge, and as selfish as it sounds, I want us to celebrate his birthday with just us, similar to how we celebrated my birthday.

"Unfortunately Katniss is right," Madge says with a frown. "Boss man scheduled another lunch meeting. But it was nice to meet you, Peeta. Hopefully we'll see you again." She winks and flounces back to her department.

The last thing Peeta pulls out of the basket is a freshly made loaf of cheese bread and I can feel the drool slip past my lips. The infamous Mellark Cheese Bread has been a staple in my diet for as long as I've known Peeta. And even though Peeta's dad would ship me frozen loaves after college, it was never as good as when it was originally fresh from the oven. I'm still convinced they added crack or something to the dough because it's easily the most addicting thing I've ever come across.

"Every year for my birthday, I would help my dad make this," he says, holding the warm loaf of bread in his hands. He gives me a small smile and flushes, "mostly because I knew it was your favorite. It's a little unconventional to give someone else a present for your birthday but," he cuts himself off and hands me the entire loaf of bread, "here. For you. Happy birthday to me."

I wrinkle my forehead, trying to figure out what the hell he's going on about and why he's just handing me this bread without a knife or anyway to cut it. Not that I really need one, I've been known to just eat an entire loaf of this with my bare hands, but since he's provided all this other food, I just assumed this was going with it.

"Just tear into it," he says with a grin. "I know you want to. And watching you enjoy it is a present for me. Well, as long as you share some with me."

I frown at him. "You said it was a present for me," I tease, acting like I was going to just bite chunk right out of the middle. His eyes go almost comically wide and I can't help but to laugh at him. "You're too easy, Mellark," I joke, tearing it in half for him. I hand him his half and turn mine over to savor the smell of the freshly baked bread when I gasp.

Because there, right in the middle of the soft bread is Granny Mellark's ring. The ring his dad gave him when he went off to college, "just in case," sitting there in a personalized, homemade bread "box." Just like how I wrote down during Delly's bridal shower of how I imagined Peeta proposed to her.

Before I'm aware of what's happening, he's taking the bread out of my shaking hands, pulling the ring out and is down on his knee.

"Peeta…" I start to warn. Because if this is some sort of joke or trick or this is him finally getting some sort of revenge it was beyond low. Especially for him.

"We made a pact, Katniss Everdeen," he says quietly, "that if we were both single by the time we were 30, we'd marry each other. And since today is my 30th birthday and we are...now...both very single…I was wondering, or hoping I guess, that you would make good on it."

I know what I want to say to him. But the words are stuck in my throat and my heart is beating uncontrollably and for the life of me I think I'm going to throw up.

"Katniss, will you marry me?" He chuckles nervously as I continue to only stare at him. "I'm getting a little nervous, here."

I'm not good at words in a normal situation, let alone when I'm literally living out the fantasy I never realized I had before I thought it was impossible to have. So I don't say anything. Instead, I collapse down to my knees so we're at the same level and I kiss him. "How did you...I told...how…"

He wipes his eyes and slips the ring onto my finger. "I told you Delly didn't hate you as much as you thought. The last thing she said to me was that if I didn't end up marrying you I would be making the biggest mistake of my life. I thought I lost you once. I refuse to ever let that happen again."

Stupid Peeta Mellark, making me cry more than anyone else in my life.

* * *

The room is too big for my liking. It's too big and floral and there are far too many people here. People I don't even recognize – but over half of them are blond haired, blue eyed, and fair skinned so I know they belong, even if I don't know who exactly invited them. I'm the one who doesn't feel like she belongs. I can count on one hand how many times I've worn a dress out in public. But never one this formal or expensive. I've been overly cautious about not tripping or slipping or sitting in something and ruining the evening. I didn't want to wear the dress but I knew it made everyone else happy, so I sucked it up and put it on. The only saving grace is that in a few hours I can take it off and never have to wear anything like it again.

Before that, I have to survive the night. And more specifically, I have to survive my toast. I've been dreading this since Peeta asked me if I'd mind doing it. It's ridiculous though because he, of all people, knows I hate public speaking. But like the dress it's important to him, so I do it, because I'll do anything for him. Including speaking at his wedding. He must know how I'm feeling because he reaches over and squeezes my hand before I accept the microphone from his brother.

I take a deep breath, my hands shaking so badly I'm sure I'll drop the cards I wrote my notes on. "Peeta and I have known each other since kindergarten. Though, if you were to ask him, he'd tell you that we've been best friends since kindergarten. At first, and he can attest to this, I thought he was just being nice. Because it was Peeta and Peeta Mellark was, and still is, the nicest, kindest person in the entire world. But it turns out, he knew what he was talking about. He's someone who, when he sees what he wants, he goes after it and, more often than not, gets it." I turn and smile at the handsome groom, my eyes welling up. "Even if takes over twenty years for what he wants to realize that's exactly what she wants as well. I'm the luckiest person because not only is all the food in this room my favorite," I wait as the chuckle ripples through the audience, "but because I got to marry my best friend tonight. Thank you all for coming and celebrating with us. I hope someone got this on camera because this may be the last time I talk in front of this many people again." Everyone laughs again and I quickly hand the microphone off and sit next to my husband.

"Thank you," he whispers, kissing my cheek. "Best wedding present ever."

"Hmm, I guess I can take back all the stuff from my bachelorette party then?"

"No," he answered with a cheeky grin. "I've been waiting for this moment for as long as I've known you, Katniss Mellark. I'm not letting you off that easy just yet."

I lean over and kiss him, ignoring the aww's from the eyes that have been on us the entire time, reliving our mutual vows in my head. _I promise to remain your best friend. And to stay with you, always._

* * *

**AN**:

That's it, my friends. This little story has reached it's (promised) happily ever after. I hope it was worth the angst/feels. I'm on tumblr at mitchesbcray if you have any questions/concerns/whatever.  
As always, thanks to Swishy for letting me play around with her feels. You're the best! And thank you to DracoIsALooker for encouraging me to write this in the first place. :)


End file.
